Severus in Darkness
by Lexen
Summary: Only Minerva understands what happens to Severus after a dark revel, and only she is willing to embrace the monster he becomes.


**Disclaimer****: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. J.K. Rowling created it all, and no money is being made from this work of fan fiction.**

**AN****: I have no beta, and all mistakes are mine. This drabble was written for the Ultimate Pairing Drabble" competition on HPFC. The level was easy. The prompt was "darkness." This is also an entry for the "Legendary Gods and Goddesses" competition on HPFC for the "Ammut" category and the "What We Pretend to Be Challenge." Though the content is not graphic, it is mature, disturbing, and may contain triggers. What takes place is completely consensual, though there are BDSM themes. This story answers the question of what Severus did after a dark revel. **

_**"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be." – **_

_**Kurt Vonnegut**_

Minerva waited for him in the shadows of his sitting room, the only light from a single candle burning on the table. There had been a dark revel tonight, and he never wanted her to look closely at him when he returned. Had he tortured? Had he raped? Had he killed? He never told her in so many words, but there were other ways for someone who knew him as well as she did to find out.

The door to his quarters flew open and then slammed shut. It was warded and silenced before she even had a chance to draw her wand. He moved like a man possessed, too fast and rushed, and that told her that it had been bad tonight. She caught a glimpse of his masked face in the candlelight before he turned away, ripping off the mask and stripping off the heavy black robe as if it burned his fingers. They fell to the floor, forgotten with the tartan dressing gown that she had just discarded. The chemise she wore beneath was slytherin green silk, something they never spoke of but she knew he appreciated. Beneath that, there was nothing…nothing but his fingers and, soon enough, other things.

But first, there was the ritual. She removed the rest of his clothes, piece by piece. He never met her eyes while she did it, never looked at her until she was guiding his hands beneath the chemise, until he was pulling the scrap of fabric over her head to join the rest of their clothes. Only then did he reach out, lifting her chin to look into her eyes. He never said a word, but his question was always abundantly clear when his haunted gaze finally met hers.

_Will you?_ He flinched as he stared at her. He never seemed to stop worrying that one night, she would refuse him. But she never did.

_Yes_, her green eyes said. Slowly, seductively, she took his left arm, her nails digging into his pale skin. She raised it to her mouth and kissed the Dark Mark branded there, a kiss that became a bite hard enough to draw blood. Only when his blood was on her lips did he kiss her…just before she found herself on her back on his bed, wrists and ankles bound, just before he let the hideous, horrible, ecstasy of the dark revel devour him.

And then there was nothing but Severus in darkness.

She woke in silence, her body sore in places that she would blush to admit to, to find him gone. She expected this. He never stayed the entire night. He was not willing to face her in the morning, to witness what he had done to her. Her body was bruised and sticky with sweat, and her hair was tangled. The taste of his blood lingered on her lips.

But there was a hot bath waiting, and his house elf had her favorite breakfast ready when she was through. Like him, his house elf wasn't talkative, but that suited her just fine. She was never inclined to talk the morning after. There was also bruise salve and pain potion to ease her discomfort and to heal the worst of the marks. She always left the ones on her wrists, merely transfiguring her robe's sleeves to be a little overly long in order to conceal them from the students.

Sometimes though, Albus noticed. She knew that he knew what she did for Severus on the nights of the dark revels. But she also knew that he liked to pretend that he didn't. He would frown at her, preparing to speak, and she would glare back, daring him to ask. He would sigh and never take it further.

Sometimes, Severus noticed too. It always took him until the evening meal before he could face her, before those midnight eyes would meet her own. He would pass her the teapot and, when she reached for it, he would see the bruises. There would be a flash of pain and a grimace before she would cover his tense hands with her own.

Slowly, the tension would ease. Then Severus would look at her and smile. Minerva always smiled back, a dark and hidden part of her relishing what it meant to belong to Severus in darkness.

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